Daddy Bats is Love
by Batsy Rocks
Summary: Chapter 2: Five times Bruce Wayne was a good father and one time he wasn't. (Except not really because I love Daddy!Bats) [Unrelated One-Shots]
1. And Many Happy Returns

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Batman or any of its characters.

**Chapter Summary: **It's Bruce birthday and everyone around him has a special way to show him how much they love him. [Bruce Wayne & The Bat Family, plus the Trinity.]

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**...**

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**Title: And Many Happy Returns.**

Bruce starts his day with a simple message from Dick sent at 6:42 a.m.

_Happy B-Day, B! Love you! 🎉 🎉 🎉🎁🎁🎁🎂🎂🎂_

Below is a photo of Dick, already showered and dressed in his police uniform, a bright smile on his face as he holds a tiny cupcake with blue icing and a bat-shaped lit candle.

He looks down at the screen for a moment, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The message is enough to bring back memories of several birthdays celebrated while Dick lived in the Manor. The boy never let him forget the date (and still doesn't), always armed with hugs and smiles and 'happy birthdays'. There is that memorable occasion when he brought him breakfast in bed when he was nine. Bruce had to swallow the burned toast and bitter orange juice with a smile on his face while Dick beamed at his side.

_Thank you._

He hesitates for a second before sending a second message.

_You too._

He doesn't wait for a reply, leaving his phone behind as he goes to take a shower. It's already 10:23 and Dick must be busy at work. He can only hope for a call later today or if he's particularly optimistic a quick visit from his oldest.

* * *

Alfred doesn't outrightly acknowledge the date, wishing him a good morning and inquiring if he slept well as he moves around the kitchen preparing breakfast.

Blueberry pancakes. The breakfast he always demanded on his birthday when he was a kid.

The look on the older man's face and the hand he rests on Bruce's arm for a bit too long as he hands him a cup of coffee say it all. It's the way they communicate the things that truly matter.

Bruce's lips twitch, squeezing Alfred's hand with his before the older man pulls back. They exchange a glance, filled with all the words they are unable to say out loud and then the moment passes. Alfred turns his attention back to his cooking while Bruce takes a sip of his delicious coffee before picking up his newspaper.

* * *

Bruce curses under his breath as he runs to his study to pick the papers he needs to take with him to the office. What he finds on the desk makes him pause.

There is a large piece of paper rolled up placed on the center of the desk. It's secured with a yellow ribbon perfectly tied up.

He moves closer and runs his fingers over the smooth material before picking it up. There's no note, but there needn't be. He knows who left this here and why.

Bruce undoes the ribbon and spreads it out carefully, breath catching in his throat as soon as he catches a glimpse of the drawing inside.

The sight of his mother and father fills his eyes, both looking down at the little bundle wrapped in blue in her mother's arms. They look so real, the love and happiness so clear in both their expressions that Bruce feels tears pool in his eyes.

He doesn't let them fall.

Bruce hasn't looked at the family photo albums for years now, but he knows there's an old, tiny photo that shows this exact image, except he can see his parents' faces much more clearly here. The dark red lipstick on his mother's lips and the blue of his father's eyes. He lets his fingers run over his mother's hair, over the laughing lines on his father's face.

He is aware of Damian's talent, of course, but it didn't prepare him for this.

Bruce forces himself to look away and put the drawing back on the desk. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to regain his composure before moving to search for the paperwork he needs.

He's already planning to ask Alfred to get it framed before leaving, and he will make sure to give Damian a tight hug as soon as he's back home.

* * *

A hesitating knock on the door makes him look up from the paperwork spread across his desk. He doesn't come to Wayne Enterprise often, but when he does he tries to do as much work as he possibly can.

Tim pokes his head through the door a moment later. "Hey, B. You busy?"

Bruce puts his pen down and forces the frown to slip from his face. "Tim. Come in."

"Um. Happy birthday," Tim announces, standing awkwardly on the other side of the desk. His hair is mussed and his cheeks look slightly pink. The bags under his eyes look a bit less deep today.

He allows the corner of his lip a small twitch. "Thank you, Tim."

"I was, um. I actually came to see if you wanted to have lunch. With me. Together. There's this new place Tam and I found the other day and I think you might like it?" The words somehow end up as a question as Tim looks at him warily.

Bruce's eyes flicker to all the paperwork he needs to get done today before looking back at Tim. "Sounds great."

"Great," Tim echoes, a grimace crossing his face a second later.

He hides his smile by moving to grab his jacket, but when he turns around he can tell by the look on Tim's face that he noticed his amusement anyway.

Bruce feels Tim tense as he slips an arm around the boy's shoulders, only to relax a second later and even lean into the touch as they walk out of the office together.

* * *

Bruce almost ignores the message when it comes. He's talking on the phone, busy smoothing a few ruffled feathers, but his hand reaches for his cell phone without conscious thought.

_Happy Birthday! There's a gift waiting for you back home. Let me know how you like it._

He can imagine the smug smile on Barbara's face as she typed the text, and he can't even fault her for that. After all, the world's greatest detective didn't notice she was working on some upgrade or installing something new altogether in the cave's system. He shakes his head.

_Thank you, Barbara. I'm sure I will love it._

_You will. 😉_

"Mr. Wayne?" The male voice in his ear pulls Bruce's attention back to his phone call.

"I apologize. Please go on."

* * *

The sky is starting to turn dark by the time Bruce arrives at the Manor. He leaves the car in the garage and walks to the door carrying a bag filled with little presents he received from a few WE's employees when Superman appears out of nowhere and lands in front of him.

"Ma sends me," Clark declares by way of greeting before Bruce can demand to know why he's here.

He closes his mouth with a grunt and glares at him, daring him to say a word. Clark is a smart man, so he doesn't. Of course, he's also a super powered one, so before Bruce can understand what is happening, he's already pressed against a board chest with a pair of strong arms wrapped around him.

"Happy birthday, B."

Bruce doesn't respond to that. He merely gives Clark's back a couple of pats with his free hand before attempting to pull back- only to be stopped.

"Where do you think you're going?" Clark asks, still not letting him go. "That hug was from Ma. Now it's my turn."

"Clark-"

"Shh. Let me enjoy the rare treat that is a Bruce Wayne hug."

So Bruce lets himself be hugged, and if he relaxes a tiny bit into the hug, neither of them is going to mention it.

When Clark finally pulls away, he disappears without a word, leaving Bruce blinking at empty air before the Kryptonian is back again a second later, this time holding a box in his hands.

"Ma sends this for you."

He accepts it without complaint. It's a recently baked apple pie, he can tell by the smell and heat emanating from the box. "Tell your mother thank you for me," He tells Clark even though he's already planning to ask Alfred to send something to the Kent farm in thanks.

"Of course. I-" Clark trails off, head tilted slightly to the side as he listens. "Sorry. I have to go."

The gust of wind in his wake makes Bruce close his eyes, and by the time he opens them again, he's alone.

* * *

Bruce is a little surprised to find Stephanie alone in the den looking at her phone.

"Hey, Brucester."

"Stephanie." He hesitates before entering the room, not wanting to impose his presence. He's never sure of his relationship with her, or how good it is for them to be alone. The last thing he wants is to say something that will only complicate things further, so it's always safer if there's someone else present.

Steph tucks her phone away and turns to look at him with a smile. "Have a nice day at work?"

"It was fine," Bruce replies, moving to sit on the empty sofa. "How was school?"

She makes a face. "It's school, so a mix of terrible and awful."

He frowns. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Nah, it's fine. I'm just being a typical college student," She says with a shrug.

Bruce grunts, closing his eyes as he rests his head on the back of the sofa. "Is Cass home?"

"Yup. She went to take a shower but I'm sure she must be done by now. I'll go check." Steph is already in the hallway when she stops and turns around. "Oh! I almost forgot. Catch!"

Bruce's eyes fly open, his hand coming up on reflex and barely catching the bag she threw at him before it hits his face.

"Happy birthday, B." She leaves before he can say anything, the sound of her laugh carrying back to the den.

He looks at the purple bag in his hand warily before curiosity wins. Bruce finds a piece of fabric inside and pulls it out. He doesn't even try to disguise a snort as soon as he sees the print in bold yellow letters on the t-shirt. He should have expected something like this from her, really.

* * *

The insistent ringing and buzzing in his pocket wakes Bruce from his dozing. He pulls out his phone and blinks down at the screen a couple of times before answering.

"Diana," He greets after clearing his throat.

"Happy birthday, Bruce." He can hear the smile in her voice.

"Thank you. How is your trip going?"

There's a pause. "I have been tempted several times to use my lasso but have refrained so far."

Bruce rubs his face with his free hand. "That bad."

"It could be better." He hears Diana speak to someone else before her voice is clear again. "What about you? Are you having a good birthday?"

He feels himself relax further on the sofa. "Hm. The kids are coming for dinner in a bit."

"Good. I expect you to save me a slice of Alfred's delicious cake."

"I can try," Bruce offers dryly. With everyone- or almost everyone coming to the Manor that's the best he can promise.

Diana's laugh fills his ear. "You do that. I have to go now, but have a nice dinner."

"I will. Thank you. And good luck with your meetings."

* * *

One second Bruce is alone in the den sipping the tea Alfred brought him, and the next there's a pair of long and thin arms hugging him from behind. The scent of jasmine fills his nose.

"Hi, Cass."

"Happy birthday," She murmurs before placing a kiss on his cheek.

He closes his eyes with a small smile, covering her hands with his and squeezing gently before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you."

The hug continues for a moment longer as she hums contentedly, resting her chin on his shoulder while he leans his head slightly against hers. Words aren't needed between them. He doesn't know how to use them, and she has no use for them, and that's always a relief.

Sometimes, he thinks that maybe she can understand him even better than Alfred does. Though perhaps is more accurate to say they understand him in different ways.

Cass slides gracefully into the empty place at his side and sits cross-legged. She looks at him with dark eyes half-hidden under her damp bangs. "No Batman tonight. I will protect Gotham for you."

Bruce hums softly, pretending to ponder that even though he knows it's not a request. "Only if you wait for the cake. And if you promise to come home early."

"Yes."

"I guess we have a deal, then."

She nods before snuggling closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

* * *

He knows something is wrong as soon as he steps into the bedroom.

A quick scan reveals that the only thing out of place is a rectangular shape at the foot of the bed. It's probably something one of the kids left for him, but he can't afford to let his guard down as he approaches. Bruce isn't sure if the faint scent of smoke he perceives is real or not, but it only makes him tense further.

The strange object in his bed is a book, and it doesn't take him long to recognize its title. It's the book he and Jason were reading together before- before Ethiopia.

He picks it up after a moment of hesitation, fingertips hovering over the cover before he forces himself to open the book. In the inside cover page he finds an inscription in his own penmanship, written years ago when he gifted the book to Jason.

Bruce feels a pang in his chest at the memory of the wide grin on the boy's face and the tight hug he gave him that day. His eagerness to start reading right away.

Jason is the only one who didn't come home tonight, and even if Bruce wasn't surprised, he still wished he had come. And he did. In a way. Maybe this can be enough for now. The knowledge that his son was here and he remembers.

It can be a start.

He skims through the pages, letting himself get lost in the memories- only to stop when a little piece of paper flutters to the floor. Jason's neat handwriting is in it, and the words make Bruce's heart skip a beat.

_It's about time we finished what we started, isn't it?_

_J._

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**...**

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**a/n: **I wrote this super quickly when I realized Bruce's birthday already passed (I'm bound to always write and post birthday fics late, it seems) because I love him and he needs all the love he can get. So, I'll probably be back to do some edits later. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

English is not my native language, so any tips or corrections are welcome.


	2. Little And Broken (But Still Good)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Batman or any of its characters.

**Chapter Summary: **Five times Bruce Wayne was a good father and one time he wasn't. (Except not really because I love Daddy!Bats)

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**...**

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**Title: Little And Broken (But Still Good). **

Bruce isn't sure what woke him up at first.

He stays very still, keeping his eyes closed and breath even. It takes him less than five seconds to identify the cause. It isn't hard at all with the fast and loud breathing filling the previous silent room.

Bruce props himself up on his elbows, squinting his eyes at the tiny dark shadow standing in his doorway. He reaches blindly for the bedside lamp and then squeezes his eyes shut at the sudden brightness. A muffled sniff makes him open them again.

"Dick? Are you alright?"

The boy remains silent and still, looking even smaller with his puffy eyes and red nose, the tear-tracks still fresh as he hugs his stuffed elephant to his chest.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He asks gently.

The nod he gets in reply is barely perceptible and Bruce feels a pang in his heart.

He tries to remember if there was something that made feel better after nightmares when he was a boy. There must have been, of course, but he can't think of anything at the moment. Maybe he should just wake Alfred and have him deal with this. The last thing he wants is to make this worst for Dick.

"Can I sleep here?"

"What?"

"I..." Dick blinks rapidly. "I don't wanna be alone."

"I- Of course."

Before Bruce can say anything else Dick crosses the distance to the bed and crawls to his side. He helps the boy under the covers, freezing when he feels him cling to him, one of his short, wiry arms wrapping around him while the other holds his elephant close.

"'night."

"Good night, Dick."

Bruce forces himself to relax, blinking up at the ceiling.

He should probably stay awake tonight. Bruce knows he doesn't react well to unexpected touches and Dick doesn't deserve to experience that firsthand.

* * *

Bruce watches Jason on the passager seat out of the corner of his eye as the boy continues watching out the window with rapt attention. Jason loves cars and traveling in them, as he found rather quickly. The fact Bruce enjoys driving as well is irrelevant.

The suggestion to go for a drive, made in the middle of an argument surprised both of them, but Jason didn't say no and here they are.

It's not going to fix anything, of course, but it's something.

Thirty minutes filled with silence later, Bruce still doesn't know where they're going, but the tense air between them is gone and that's good enough for now.

It shouldn't have been an argument to being with, but Bruce's inability to express himself clearly and Jason's defensiveness escalated thing quickly.

Bruce can't say he didn't expect certain issues to arise with Jason entering Gotham Academy, and he certainly can't fault the boy for reacting to the insults and hurtful words the other boys threw at him.

He only wishes it didn't have to end with black eyes and bloody noses.

"You finally gonna kick me out, huh?"

"What?"

Jason says nothing, simply looks at the shabby and dirty street they're driving by.

They're in the Narrows now, fairly close to Crime Alley. Bruce can't say he was planning to come here, but it may not be a bad idea.

"There's nothing you can do that will make me kick you out, Jay. The Manor is and will always be your home."

The boy looks away, brow furrowed.

"You mentioned the other day you missed chili dogs. I think eating some now will help to make your day a little better."

Jason's head snaps upward. "We're getting chili dogs?"

A smile tugs at the corner of Bruce's lips when he sees the gleam in Jason's eyes. "We are."

* * *

When Bruce finally looks away from the report he had been reading he's surprised to find Tim sitting to his right, attention fixed on one of the monitors. His head is resting on his fist, eyes half-lidded and coffee cup clutched in his other hand.

He looks ready to fall asleep at any second but Bruce knows better. Tim wouldn't let himself sleep until he finishes.

Bruce frowns. "Tim."

"Hmm?"

"It's late. You should go to bed."

"Sure. I'll go when you do."

He opens his mouth to remind Tim he is the _adult_ here but closes it without a word. Bruce is self-aware enough to recognize how hypocritical it is to call Tim out for working late when he's doing the same thing, but he is the boy's father. It's his job to worry and care for him, even if he doesn't always do it well.

He gets to his feet after a few keystrokes, bones popping and muscles creaking as he does. Tim is still immersed in his work and doesn't even react when he puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's go."

"Huh?" Tim blinks sleepily at him.

"You said you would go to bed when I did, so save whatever you're working on because we're going upstairs now."

"But I'm working."

"You were working. Now you're going to bed."

"But it's important."

"So is sleep."

Tim blinks slowly. "Who are you?"

"I will carry you if I have to."

Tim watches him for a moment, probably trying to gauge if he's bluffing. The boy sighs a moment later, taking care of his work before turning to him with tired eyes.

"Come on," Bruce beckons, watching Tim as he sluggishly gets to his feet.

He keeps a hand resting on Tim's shoulder, feeling the boy leaning into the touch as he steers him out of the cave.

* * *

The sound of soft music makes Bruce pause at the bottom of the stairs.

He follows the notes of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake to one of the Manor's ballrooms where he finds Cassandra practicing her ballet in her pink leotard.

She gives no indication of having noticed his presence, but he has no doubt Cass knows he's here.

Bruce soon finds himself enthralled by his daughter's grace, agility, and strength. It's like watching her fight and train as Black Bat, and completely different at the same time.

Cass finishes with a perfect pirouette and Bruce immediately claps, the smile tugging at his lips winning when he sees her turn in his direction and bow.

The song starts again, but rather than go back to practicing she reaches for her water bottle, prompting Bruce to walk further into the room.

"That was beautiful."

"Thank you," She replies, pushing a stray hair away from her face with a huff.

"May I?"

Cass doesn't answer, turning her back to him to let him reach for her unruly hair. He runs his fingers through the short locks before tying it up in a lopsided but less messy ponytail.

She gives him a warm smile before walking to where she left her iPod on the floor. A second later the music changes to a more upbeat, pop-ish song.

"Dance?"

"I don't know how." And it's the truth. He can dance waltzes, of course, but only after years of lessons at Alfred's insistence.

"Dance." It's no longer a question this time.

Bruce watches her with narrowed eyes. He can't say no to her and they both know it, but he still likes to pretend he has a choice anyway.

"You wouldn't tell your brothers. Or anyone else."

Cass' only response is a bright smile and gleaming eyes, so Bruce resigns to his fate and takes her hand.

* * *

"Damian. May I come in?" Bruce asks as he knocks on the bedroom's door.

He doesn't get a response, but he can hear movement on the other side even through the thick wooden door. Damian appears less than a minute later, his hair mussed and cheeks lightly flushed. The door is open only wide enough to let the boy stand there.

"Do you need something, Father?"

"I would like to speak with you." Bruce gives him an expectant look.

Damian hesitates, but a moment later the door is open to let him through, and he takes a discrete look around as he walks inside.

"How was school?"

There's a flicker of surprise in Damian's face, which is quickly covered with his usual scowl. It's an understandable reaction. Bruce never comes to his son's bedroom to ask about school. He does that during dinner.

"It was as pointless and inadequate as always, Father."

"I see."

A muted, soft noise is heard in the silent room, but before he can identify it a sudden cough from Damian covers it, dragging Bruce attention back to the boy.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Father. Do you require something else? I believe I should start working on my homework."

Bruce opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by the same sound again, quickly followed by the muted sound of scratching.

He looks at his son before walking toward the closet and pulling the door open.

A pair of puppies stumble out, little tails wagging and pink tongues sticking out. Bruce looks down at the puppy that stops by his feet, looking up at him with big brown eyes.

"I can explain."

"I'm sure you can." Bruce picks the puppy, the corner of his lips curling upward when it licks his face.

"You're no angry."

He gives Damian a look. "They are not staying."

* * *

Bruce is out of his bedroom as soon as he can force his feet to hold him. He feels lightheaded and his body aches from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes in a way it hasn't for some time now. His mind is clear, though, and the memories of what he did replay again and again in sharp detail.

He needs to see them. Even if they never forgive him he needs to see them. Needs to make sure they're alright.

Bruce is taking a moment to rest at the bottom of the stairs when Alfred finds him.

"Master Bruce. You should still be in bed, sir."

He ignores the scolding, focusing instead on getting information. "Where are they? Are they okay?"

The butler puts a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "The young Masters and Miss Cassandra are fine, sir. They did not sustain any serious injuries."

He closes his eyes, allowing himself to take comfort in Alfred's touch even when he knows he doesn't deserve it.

"I have attended to them, and they are now resting." Bruce blinks his eyes open and sees Alfred's minute smile. "I'm afraid they refused to retire to their respective bedrooms and have instead chosen to settle in the den."

His children are together. That's good.

"Since you're already out of bed, perhaps you ought to go with them."

Bruce shakes his head. "That's not a good idea."

"Isn't it? Because I have no doubt seeing their father will be good for them after what happened."

Bruce doesn't know if it will be good for them or not, but he needs more than Alfred's reassurances. He needs proof his children are fine. As fine as they can be.

Alfred must know what he's thinking because he doesn't say anything. He gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before walking away.

He finds his sons and daughter in the den, just like Alfred told him. The coffee table has been pushed aside to let the boys lie together on the thick rug on the floor while Cassandra occupies the sofa.

"Hi."

He blinks to where Cass is peeking over the back of the sofa. A second later everyone's attention is on him as well.

"You're awake."

"Father."

"You don't look so hot right now, B."

He feels physically ill when he sees the injuries he caused. Dick's black eye and split lip. The large contusion on Cassandra's cheek. The fresh stitches on Damian's forehead and the bandaid on his nose. Jason's right arm in a sling. Tim's heavily bruised jaw and the splint on his left hand.

And that's only what he can see. How many other injuries hide under their clothes. And it's all his fault.

He did this.

"I'm sorry," Bruce whispers thickly, blinking back tears. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," Cass declares, quickly followed by responses from her brothers.

"Of course it's not."

"Aww, B."

"She's right."

"Duh."

Bruce is shaking his head even before they finish speaking. "I attacked you-"

"You were drugged!" Dick counteracts.

"Hey! You can't go to sleep yet, Replacement."

Bruce turns his attention away from Dick, watching Jason shake Tim awake. He adds a contusion to his mental list of injuries as well as bruised ribs when he notices the wince that crosses Jason's face as he shifts his position.

He's ready to escape, unable to keep witnessing the pain he inflicted on his sons and daughter when Cass takes his hand. He blinks down at her in surprise.

Bruce remains rooted to the spot even as Cass tugs at his hand.

"Just get your ass here already, old man."

Bruce looks at each of his children before taking the first step.

* * *

**...**

* * *

**a/n: **Always is a good time for some good old daddy!Bats, but we kinda need it even more right now with the mess canon is doing. A Batman who punches and beats his kids half to death is not my Batman, and let's not talk about the disgusting way they're normalizing that violence and making it okay. *deep breath* So, I hope you enjoyed this and please do let me know what you think!

Happy belated Father's day to our favorite Dad! So, each segment has exactly 310 words (the last part has 310 with Alfred and 310 with the kids) which was _no easy_ to do. The main reason I decided to do that was because I knew I would end up writing longer bits with with the character I feel more comfortable writing and I didn't want that. Sorry if any of them are OOC. I tried. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

English is not my native language, so any tips or corrections are welcome.


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